of adjustments and priorities
by andsocanshe
Summary: "Hand her over and get back to work." — Donna wakes up to an entirely too quiet house — too quiet because the baby should be up, crying her little lungs out but she isn't and Harvey isn't necessarily where he should be either, although he's exactly where he's meant to be. — One-shot, post-series. Based on a tweet from Ipaulsenspecter.


_Based on this tweet from Jessica (Ipaulsenspecter): /ipaulsenspecter/status/1229227738361401344?s=21 and requested by Liz (bentface) and Sam (swancharmings). Thank you for allowing me to write something centered around this, Jessica!_

_And as always, huge thank you to Heather (kalingswifts) for being the best beta around._

—

_of adjustments and priorities_

Sleep training is… well, sleep training. Their ten week old is only up twice now most nights, sometimes more but she's getting there and it doesn't _really _matter whether she's asleep or not because they're new parents. They worry constantly — _is she really ready to be in her room by herself, is she still breathing, is she too hot or too cold, what if the baby monitor glitches and we can't hear her?_ So, really, the baby may be sleeping more but her parents are _not_. It's an adjustment. Parenthood is an adjustment — not an unwanted one, though.

Harvey's paternity leave has been up for a few weeks but still, he's been home more than he has been at work and although he insists that it's because he doesn't want to leave everything up to her, Donna _knows _that it's mostly because he misses them. It's enough to not be by each other's sides day in and day out like they have been for years, but to know that you have a new baby at home learning and growing without you? That's an adjustment too, one that Donna is sure she'll be feeling once her own (already extended) leave is up.

He _was _supposed to go into the office today, though. They're gearing up to go to trial with a major lawsuit, one that is bound to consume most of their time in the coming weeks — something that she knows had made Harvey reluctant to take part. In fact, the minute that it became an 'all hands on deck' situation, Donna began mentally preparing herself to take on the brunt of parenting until it was over, even if that meant convincing him to do so.

So when she wakes up to a quiet house; no crying or gurgling infant anywhere near by and no sound emitting over the baby monitor, it takes Donna a minute to assess her surroundings. It could be early, earlier than their daughter's usual wake up call even on mornings post-restless night, but Harvey isn't next to her in the bed and when she rolls over, the clock proves otherwise. Nine AM. She slept passed even her own daily schedule which was a rarity pre-motherhood and unheard of since the third trimester of her pregnancy. Nine also meant that Harvey had already left for work. It's only then that she looks for the monitor and notices that either the battery had died or it had been turned off entirely.

She tries not to panic as she climbs out of bed and heads down the hall — the damn monitor probably shut off and that's why she hadn't heard anything, but why hadn't she even tried to turn it back on before rushing out of the bedroom? Maybe Harvey had gotten the baby back to sleep before he left, or maybe she fell back to sleep on her own. The nursery feels too far away at once and as she pushes the door open, Donna is only met by the noise coming from the sound machine opposite the crib. Taking another deep breath, she continues toward the crib and braces herself, prepared to see her baby wiggling around in the little peach sleeper that she had put her in well past three in the morning. Or worse.

She doesn't.

The bed is entirely sans infant, every side and corner free of her daughter's light strawberry head of hair and wide brown eyes. Now, Donna panics.

Her mind doesn't even register that _maybe _Harvey might be home, somewhere in the house with her. She leaves the room quickly, walking toward the kitchen and then into the living room, still no sign of her daughter let alone anyone else. But then something else catches her eye — the door to their home office is open when it normally isn't, unless one of them left it that way the night before. She goes toward it, mind instantly begging that to mean _something_.

And that's where she sees it, stopping dead in her tracks. Her eyes find her daughter's soft profile; tiny, pouting lips partially agape followed by rosy cheeks and fluttering eyelids. One little fist is curled in a tight ball while the other grips the soft cotton beneath her. Next, Donna sees the large hand securely holding the baby and glances up to none other than her husband, leaning back in his chair just slightly — enough that she rests comfortably against him. Harvey taps his desk with a pen lightly, staring blankly at the laptop in front of him. It's almost too obvious that he is preoccupied by his own thoughts rather than whatever work needs to be done.

"You were supposed to go in today," Donna says, breaking through the silence from where she stands in the doorway. She can feel her own panic instantly begin to dissipate.

Harvey's eyes meet hers then, not at all startled and she knows that he felt her presence whether his mind knew it or not. He doesn't say anything but shrugs, a grin forming on his lips.

"_Harvey_," her tone is stern as she takes the few short strides to his desk and moves around to the other side — his, leaning against it. "They're relying on you. Mike is relying on you."

Turning in his chair to face her, Harvey's other hand reaches for their baby's back, holding her in place, "Both of you rely on me, too."

"You saying I can't take care of my own baby, Specter?"

"_No. _I know that you can but you were up with her last night so you needed the sleep, and I—"

"_I know_. You scared the hell out of me but I love you for acknowledging what I need. I love that you have no trouble putting us first — that you _want_ to put us first. I love that you're aware of your priorities now but Harvey, doing your job doesn't mean that she is any less important or that I am," she looks at him, mouth upturning with a soft smile while her hand reaches for his jaw, nails grazing the light stubble, "You're going to have big cases come up like this one and they are going to take more time than the others but you'll still come home to us every night. When I go back to work, we will come home to her together. Our kid — or _kids_, if we decide that we just don't want sleep for the foreseeable future — will have us and they will know that our family comes first. Taking on a big lawsuit like this doesn't mean that it doesn't and letting me take care of the crying baby while you go into the office doesn't either."

Harvey nods, accepting her words. She knows that he knows she's right. His priorities have changed, they have been changing for years and it's only now that they're faced with the day in and day out of balancing their marriage, their child, and demanding careers that the thought is overwhelming. He doesn't want to screw this up — he _can't_. He doesn't want to be absent like his dad, he doesn't want to be like so many other lawyer husbands and fathers that he knows. He wants weekly date nights with his wife, casual evenings on the couch, and "morning meetings" before their days begin. He wants to wake up with his daughter at three in the morning and at seven, make her laugh, and watch her take her first steps. He wants to be hands on — to be there for all of it. And he wants to be a lawyer, too. If Donna knows anything about him, anything at all, she has faith that his determination to be the best man for both "jobs" means that he will be.

Her fingers move from his face to the collar of his t-shirt, fidgeting with it playfully as she smirks, "Besides, what will the people say if they realize that _the closer_ has lost his edge?"

Huffing a laugh, he lets the sincerity in his eyes melt into her own — the warm brown liquifying with more love than the Donna years ago ever thought that she would be privy to, "That he gave it up willingly, for something more. They'll say that _you _closed the closer and made him a dad. Only you could do that."

Maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the panic that settled minutes earlier, or maybe it's the way her husband looks in a t-shirt with the little human that they made on his chest as he credits her for the best pieces of himself, but Donna can't help but lean forward and press her lips to his, the kiss deepening on instinct until it startles said _little human _out of slumber.

They break apart just barely and look down at the baby who squirms and scrunches her little face before nestling back into her father's hold.

"Alright, hand her over and get back to work."

"Few more minutes?"

Rolling her eyes, Donna obliges, "A few more minutes."

"Okay. And… sorry, by the way."

"Sorry for what?"

"For letting you think that someone kidnapped our kid," Harvey chuckles.

"I didn't—" she begins to object, "_Okay_. I did. Next time leave a note or something."

"Got it."

—

_Thank you for reading!_

_Reviews are always welcome._


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